Nina caught Wade’s meaningful look as he silently communicated that this tallied exactly with his assessment of the unsub’s character back when they had first been assigned to investigate. She inclined her head in tacit respect. His profile had been spot on.
“Once, a kid came in who had both legs amputated after a car crash,” Cahill continued. “The boy had become addicted to painkillers, which led to a series of thefts to support his habit when his doctors tried to wean him off the opioids. After he shot someone in a botched armed robbery, the court sent him to us for rehabilitation while he got treatment for his addiction. You’d think Danny might have given that boy a break.” Cahill let out a disgusted snort. “I caught Danny sitting on top of the disabled kid, pinning his arms to his sides while he poured water over a washcloth spread across the boy’s face. I pulled Danny off and asked him what the hell he was doing. You know what he said?”
When they both shook their heads, Cahill leaned forward. “Danny wanted to try waterboarding someone. Called it an experiment.” His lip curled. “I didn’t believe him for a second. He wasn’t just doing some random experiment. He tortured that other boy because he was jealous of all the attention the new kid got.”
“What did you do?” Nina asked.
“I went to Dr. Novak with it. By that point, he was the only one who would believe me. Danny’s victims were too scared to admit what he did to them, and he was careful to do things in places like the bathrooms, where there were no cameras. Dr. Novak told me Danny had antisocial personality disorder and there was no cure. We just had to try to keep all the other kids safe.”
“Dr. Novak was right,” Wade said. “There’s no cure, but there is treatment. Some people with ASPD have learned to get by without causing overt harm to others, but they have to be motivated to change. Unfortunately, many don’t understand why they should bother to put in the effort. People with ASPD only make up about one to three percent of the overall population, but they constitute anywhere from forty to seventy percent of those in prison.”
“Maybe some antisocial people do okay,” Cahill said. “But not Danny. Dr. Novak told me something I’ll never forget. He said you can’t train a snake, but you can cultivate certain responses using behavioral conditioning. That’s how I thought of Danny from then on. We had no way to fix his brain, but we could try to cultivate better conduct.”
Nina took a moment to absorb that Danny Creed’s treating psychiatrist had compared him to a snake.
“I don’t know what you’re investigating besides Tommy Kirk’s death,” Cahill said. “But the fact that I’m sitting here means Danny must have done even more than that. Tell me what else I can do to help.”
“Actually, you’re doing it now,” Wade said. “We appreciate the insight you’ve been able to provide into his character during his developmental years.”
“To be honest, I stayed the hell away from Danny as much as possible after that day. Every so often, he’d give me that same evil smile and a wink, like we shared a secret. He wanted to see me flinch, and sometimes I did. He seemed to enjoy scaring the other kids, scaring me.” Cahill grew distant again. “Still creeps me out when I think about it.”
“How did a boy like Tommy Kirk end up being friends with Danny Creed?” Nina wanted to know.
“Simple,” Cahill said. “Danny viewed everyone as either a victim to bully or a useful fool to manipulate. Tommy was a few years older, so Danny never targeted him for abuse. Instead, he conned him. Sucked him in like he did most everyone else. I also think Tommy took Danny under his wing because he thought maybe he did get railroaded by the system.” When Nina didn’t interrupt, he elaborated. “Danny could be very charming when he wanted to.”
“Anything else you can tell us about him?” Nina asked.
“If he’s up to something, be careful,” Cahill said. “Danny’s smart and he’s slick as snail snot.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Cahill,” Nina said. “Thank you for coming. You’ve been very helpful.”
“What’s he done?” Cahill looked as if he really didn’t want to hear the answer.
Nina didn’t take the bait. “Let’s just call him a person of interest and leave it at that.”
Looking as if that confirmed his worst suspicions, Cahill got up to leave. Nina and Wade escorted him out before making their way into the command center.
As soon as she pushed the door open, Nina saw Buxton on the phone and Perez going through his notes before her gaze landed on Breck, who sat in front of her computer terminal, face flushed, hair mussed as if she’d dragged her hand through it a hundred times. Kent was leaning over her, peering at the screen as she typed.
“I did a quick Google search on Creed while you two were interviewing Cahill,” Breck said to her.
Kent straightened. “There were plenty of hits.”
Nina was impatient for verification. “And?”
“This is an archived news article from the Arizona Daily Star.” Breck read from the screen, “A Tucson police spokesperson characterized the death of Darlene Creed, infant daughter of Patricia and Stanley Creed, as a homicide. The couple’s twelve-year-old son, Daniel, was taken into custody this morning. Sources at the Office of the Prosecutor indicated they cannot try the boy as an adult because he is younger than fourteen.”
Nina felt her jaw slacken. She hadn’t asked Cahill how old Creed was when he first came to the facility.
“What was the date of that story?” Nina said.
“March first, 1984,” Breck said. “It said the murder had occurred the previous day.”
Nina did the math in her head. “Ah, 1984 was a leap year, so—”
“He committed the murder on a leap day.” Wade’s gray eyes darkened. “I believe we’ve found our point of inception.” He stroked his jaw. “Now we look for the precipitating stressor.”
“Twelve years old.” Breck shook her head. “Damn.”
“There have been many instances of children even younger than that committing premeditated murder,” Kent said, adding his assessment to the discussion. “It’s rare, but definitely not unheard of.”
“Wait a minute.” Nina was still working out the timeline. “What was the exact date of the homicide-suicide of Daniel Creed’s parents?”
After a few staccato taps on her keyboard, Breck had the answer. “February twenty-ninth, 1988.”
Another leap day. Another puzzle piece fell into place.
“The next leap year was 1992,” Nina said. “The year of the Llorona case. Creed would have been twenty years old.”
“And all of those murders were committed not just during leap years but on a leap day,” Kent said. “They were exactly four years apart.”
“And every single one after that leading up to the present,” Buxton said. He had disconnected from his phone call to join the discussion. Perez, too, had stopped what he was doing to listen.
“The Llorona case was a shooting,” Nina said. “Would Creed have been able to legally purchase a gun after he turned eighteen if he’d been convicted of murder?”
“The case would be part of his juvenile record,” Buxton said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it was sealed, but I’m no expert on Arizona law.”
All eyes turned to Perez.
“In Arizona, a juvenile convicted of murder can’t apply to have his gun possession and ownership rights restored until he’s thirty years old,” Perez said. “Creed obtained the weapon illegally.”
“Not surprising,” Wade said. “Someone with his personality would skirt the law without breaking a sweat.”
“Where is Creed now?” Nina asked. “Does he have an adult criminal record?”
Breck clicked open another tab, then scrolled down the screen. Her russet brows drew together, and she clicked open another tab. Then another.
“What’s wrong?” Nina asked.
“I’m hitting a dead end. There’s no record of him after he left the juvenile detention facility when he turned eighteen.” She glanced
up at them. “Daniel Creed is a ghost.”
Chapter 39
Nina put her hands on her hips. “There has to be a way to find Creed. What happened to him after he got out of juvie? He had to support himself somehow. His relatives sure weren’t going to help him.”
“Wait,” Wade said. “Cahill told us Tommy Kirk got a job at Jexton Security for his band of friends—and Creed was one of them. We could start there.”
Buxton perked up. “I’ve seen some commercials for Jexton Security. They have offices nationwide.”
Perez walked around the table, moving closer to the group. “I’ve seen their Phoenix branch downtown. It’s a newer building overlooking one of the canals.”
“This is their website,” Breck said after a quick internet search. “They install alarm systems. They claim to have over two hundred thousand corporate and residential clients coast to coast.”
“There.” Nina pointed at Breck’s computer. “Look at that emblem on the bottom of the screen.”
Wade stepped closer and squinted. “Jexton is a wholly owned subsidiary of Rubric Realty, Incorporated.”
Nina smiled. “Boom.”
“Do the two companies share clients?” Buxton asked.
They all waited for an interminable two minutes while Breck clicked open case files from the crime scenes going back twenty-eight years.
“I was able to confirm that the residences had an alarm system from Jexton in four of the eight cases,” Breck said. “Three more didn’t mention the name of the company, but the house was alarmed. The only home we don’t know about is the first case.” She hesitated, avoiding eye contact with Nina. “The Llorona case.”
“Perez can look into that,” Nina said, too caught up in the gathering momentum to be put off by the case’s nickname. “Maybe the original detective didn’t make a note of it or didn’t ask.” Detective O’Malley had been more than a little distracted during his investigation.
Perez pulled out his phone. “I have O’Malley’s cell number. I’ll send him a text.”
“And I’ll add that to my list of things to ask the field agents from the other cities,” Kent said.
Nina wanted a work-around. Something that would give them a hot lead to follow. “Can we contact Jexton Security’s Human Resources department and ask them to confirm whether Creed is a current or past employee?”
“HR for a big company like that may not cooperate,” Buxton said. “At the very least, they’ll want to know why we’re asking.”
“This will be a simple request,” Nina said. “We don’t have to spend time getting a subpoena. If they don’t want to cooperate, they don’t have to, but we won’t say why we’re asking.”
“What if he’s working there now and HR notifies him we asked about him?” Kent said.
“If Breck can’t find any sign of him, there’s an excellent chance he’s not there anymore,” Nina said. “Hell, someone with his kind of mental health issues may have gotten worse over the years. He could have left the job and is now living off the grid, only coming out every four years.”
Kent tilted his head in apparent confusion. “If you don’t think he works there anymore, why would we ask them about him?”
“Because Jexton is our only starting point right now,” she said. “If they can confirm his employment when he was eighteen, we could subpoena their records and get his address, date of birth, and social security number.” She jerked her chin at Breck. “With that kind of information, Creed would be easy to track.”
Buxton turned to Breck, who was still hunched over her keyboard. “Have you found anything yet?”
“I’m running him with just his general age and legal name, but Guerrera’s right. His DOB and social would be nice. I’m trying to pull that from the records, but since everything was in the juvenile court system, there’s an extra barrier to get through.”
“I’ve got another idea,” Nina said. “We call the main number and ask for Creed. Don’t go through HR with an official request from the FBI—instead, just ask like any ordinary person who’s trying to get in touch with someone at the company. We’re not violating anyone’s rights, and we don’t need any kind of warrant to ask to talk to someone.”
“And if he’s there and they put us through to him?” Buxton asked.
“We disconnect the call and strategize how we’re going to interview him.” Nina shrugged. “At least we’ll know where he is.”
Wade stroked his jaw. “We won’t be acting under color of authority if we don’t do any more than ask for him.”
After a long pause, Buxton turned to Nina. “Go ahead.”
She pulled out her phone and googled the company, then their Phoenix branch. She tapped the screen to connect the call, then touched an icon to put it on speaker so everyone could listen in.
On the fifth ring, the voice of a twentysomething female answered. “Jexton Security.” The words came out on a bored sigh.
Nina kept her voice brisk and light. “Could you put me through to Daniel Creed, please?”
“Who?”
“Daniel Creed. I believe he works out of the Phoenix branch.”
“Hold on a sec.” Loud gum-chewing followed the words. After a long pause, the voice came back. “We don’t have anyone by that name here.”
Nina tried a different approach. “Can you see if he works out of another branch, maybe in Flagstaff or Tucson, or perhaps in another state?”
“I dunno.”
“You don’t know if he works out of another branch or you don’t know if there’s a way to check?”
“Both.” More gum smacking. “Look, this is only my third day.”
“Could you find out if there is a way to check your system?”
“How?”
Nina stifled an eye roll. “Maybe . . . ask someone who’s worked there awhile?”
“Hold on.” The receptionist let out another world-weary sigh before putting them on hold.
They waited for a full minute. Breck resumed her computer search, Perez got a bottle of water from the small fridge in the corner, and Wade conferred with Kent and Buxton. Nina almost gave up and disconnected when a resonant male voice came on the line.
“This is Clay Forge. Can I help you?”
Nina went back into polite, professional mode. “I was trying to get in touch with one of your employees, but I’m not sure what branch he works out of. Is there a way to find out?”
“Certainly,” Forge said. “I have access to the entire employee database. Who are you trying to reach?”
“Daniel Creed.”
After some keyboard-clacking in the background, he came back with a response. “Our records show Jexton Security has never employed anyone by that name.”
“Really? I just met him last night. Said he was some kind of big shot in your sales department.” She adopted the disappointed tone of a woman led on yet again by a man with less-than-honorable motives. “Thought the guy sounded too good to be true.”
Forge’s response was sympathetic. “It’s hard to know who to trust, Miss . . .”
She did not fill in the blank when he trailed off. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Forge. You’ve been most helpful.”
She disconnected and looked at the team. “If Creed never worked for Jexton, and Breck can’t find any trace of him elsewhere, what has he been doing since he turned eighteen?”
“Besides killing people, you mean?” Breck said.
Wade looked thoughtful. “Maybe we should consider the possibility that Creed isn’t the unsub.” When five pairs of eyes sent him questioning looks, he lifted a defensive hand. “Okay, okay . . . it has to be Creed. No one else would fit the profile so perfectly.”
“Why can’t we find him?” Buxton said. “Let’s consider the options. How does someone disappear?”
“He’s not dead,” Nina said. “He’s been actively preying on families for decades. Maybe he keeps relocating.”
Breck’s long, red spiral curls swayed as she shook her
head. “Even if he moved away, I’d find a trace of him somewhere.”
Nina reflected on her own history. She’d legally changed her name as soon as she was able, drawing a bright line between her past and the new course she intended for herself. The day she walked out of the courtroom as Nina Guerrera had been a fresh start for her. Perhaps Creed had done the same thing.
She addressed the group. “Think about what he was going through when he got out of juvie. His immediate family was dead. His extended relatives wanted nothing to do with him. He was a pariah in the community. He would want a reboot.”
“You’re saying he assumed another identity?” Kent asked.
They all knew her history. “It’s what I did.”
Buxton frowned. “If we had his exact date of birth and social security number, Breck could find evidence of a legal name change.”
Breck didn’t appear daunted. “Let me check the circuit court records in Tucson for the year he turned eighteen to see if there were any petitions for a legal name change. It won’t help if he filed in a different jurisdiction, but we might get lucky.”
Buxton glanced down at his notes. “While Agent Breck is checking on that, let’s consider our next steps.”
“Detective O’Malley just answered my text,” Perez said, putting his phone away. “He says the Vega house had a residential alarm—apparently the previous owner had been burglarized twice. According to O’Malley, Maria and Victor never activated it when they bought the place. He doesn’t know whether the company was Jexton or not.”
“We keep coming back to the victim families moving houses and having security systems,” Kent said. “There must be something to it.”
“Which is why I was so sure Creed worked for Jexton,” Nina said. “Too many connections to be a coincidence.”
They fell silent, each of them deep in contemplation.
A few minutes later, Breck pumped her fist. “Jackpot.” Excitement lit her features. “I’ve got a petition to the Pima County court for a legal name change for Daniel Creed.”
The rest of the team gathered around her.
“The record will contain his DOB and social too,” Breck said. “I’ll be able to track him.” She clicked on a scanned document. “Holy shit.”
A Different Dawn (Nina Guerrera) Page 20